


clarity

by lunaro



Series: complications and the fixings thereafter [1]
Category: Red Dead Redemption (Video Games)
Genre: Established Relationship, F/M, Fluff, Unplanned Pregnancy, albeit strained
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-18
Updated: 2019-10-18
Packaged: 2020-12-22 18:57:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,628
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21081512
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lunaro/pseuds/lunaro
Summary: The gang has gone their separate ways, for the better this time around.*Sequel to "Complications"





	clarity

**Author's Note:**

> very short sequel requested by a lot of you and those on my tumblr (link in end note)... sorry it's so short but maybe if enough ppl are interested i'll make one final part when i'm not so sick

You wake with a start, a roll of your shoulder, the press of cold fingers against a bandaged nose.

John is the first to greet you with a sip of water. 

“Sleeping Beauty finally wakes after three long days.”

You blink up at him, then glance around the sparse room. “Where are we?”

“Chicago. Arthur wanted a doctor close by in case anything happened. Apparently that shoulder of yours got a nasty infection.”

You swallow, wince at the sting of your throat, and accept a drink of water. “And what about you guys?”

John shrugs. “We're laying low for a while. Trying to find _ honest _ work, as Abigail says.”

Arthur steps into the room, heading straight for your bed. “You're finally awake. Took you long enough.”

You slap him on the shoulder and he laughs in that dorky way that you adore so much. “Hey, taking care of two humans is tiring work. Not to mention everything else.”

With a hand on your belly, Arthur gives you a rundown of events. The Pinkertons found them robbing the train, and Micah accused one of them of snitching, which led Dutch to grow even more erratic and paranoid. They went their separate ways, and by the time he got back to camp, half of the gang was gone, Charles included. 

"And Charles…?"

"Safe. Said he was gonna head further north, lay low for a while."

You release a stubborn exhale, eyes misting at the thought of everyone — or those deserving, at least — making it out in one piece. 

A hand rests at the back of your neck, lightly squeezing until your eyes meet Arthur's. "How're you feeling?"

Sore, if your aching back and neck and shoulder and _ legs _ warrant enough evidence, and you clear your throat when dryness rears its ugly head, accept another grateful sip as Arthur sits you up. But moreso…

"Real hungry."

— 

Things slowly return to normal. Your physical wounds heal (yet the cuts on your heart remain) and John and his family finally work out their differences for the better. Albeit with a lot of arguing, but your relationship with Arthur has been on thin ice since that day in the tent.

You swear up and down that you attempt to talk to him at every turn, to _ apologize _ for how severely your actions affected him, yet he simply brushes you off with excuses of work needing done. 

But you succeed in cornering him one day after he comes home to the rundown apartment, sweaty and exhausted and covered in blood.

A hand rubs over your belly. The first action he always takes. Then a kiss to your cheek, distant and only committed out of expectation.

"Let me run you a bath, Arthur," you say, massage the iron-like muscles of his shoulders beneath weakened hands. All you are is weak nowadays. "You've been working yourself to the bone saving up for that house. It's the least I could do."

Unable to see the look on his face, you catch the quick shake of his head. "Absolutely not. You can't even put your socks on of the morning."

"Hopefully I can do some bending over, you jackass."

He grunts out a laugh, adorably dorky, and begins to undress on the way to the bathroom. You step around shed clothes and sit on the edge of the tub.

"You want that fancy soap, or the other kind that smells like roses?"

He stands there fidgeting, leaning from side to side, unable to look in your direction. "The fancy stuff. Was hoping you'd join me tonight."

The release of a relieved sigh. And your heart unclenches. "Always, Arthur."

After readying the bath and realizing that this thing just ain't big enough for the both of you, he tugs up his legs to free your belly from your own boney knees.

"I was thinking we could talk," you begin, smile when he brushes a calloused palm along the large swell of your bump. "About what?"

"How I hurt you. I know you pretend like it still don't eat at you, but I can see it when you ain't looking. That look of betrayal in your eyes."

"I been betrayed by more than just you, darling."

"And I know that. But it's when I catch you looking at _ me _, Arthur. I wasn't born yesterday, and I sure as hell ain't a fool, so —"

His heavy, burdened sigh cuts off your words. "What do you want me to say?"

"Nothing at all. I just wanna apologize. Tell you that I know it'll take you a while to trust me again after what I did. And that I get it. I do. You don't gotta be ashamed to say that it hurt."

A too-long stretch of silence, before chapped lips press heavy and hot to the curve of your neck, his head resting against yours. "It did. More than you know. But what hurt most was that you felt you couldn't _ trust _ me. You know how much I—" The falter of words, clearing of a throat, and you reach both arms back to rest against his nape as he silently cries into the meat of your shoulder.

"I hope you still love me," you mutter, low enough for him to not hear, but the sting of what-ifs doesn't become any less real.

— 

You settle nicely into a modest house near the city, but far enough away to supply the men with their need for untouched land. A few months into a calm life, your belly nears popping. Arthur and John (but mostly the former) build you a sturdy wooden crib and a rocking chair that fits perfectly in the corner of your bedroom. Abigail loves to sew baby clothes when she isn't running the house, and sends John to drop them off each week as the date hovers overhead like a rain cloud.

To admit that you're terrified would be an understatement, but Arthur handles your tearful outbursts quite well, given that he also worries over his parenting prowess.

On a sunny afternoon, he drags you to town and insists on treating you to prepare for the grueling weeks ahead. 

You step out of the carriage, gripping onto the sleeve of his coat for dear life in case you lose your balance. Your belly has doubled in size, making the simplest tasks borderline impossible. Reducing you to a glorified waddling buffalo. But Arthur sure doesn't mind — he keeps his hand settled against the swell of your belly as you walk, arm slung comfortingly around your waist.

"Where are we going, Mr. Morgan? Or are you just gonna pull something out of your ass like all the other times?"

He chuckles at your quip, though something settles in his eyes that you can't quite name. But his smile surely doesn't meet them. "You'll find out soon enough, and it's gonna be real nice. I promise."

"I'm holding you to that, cowboy."

Before too long, you stop in front of a newly renovated restaurant, complete with quaint tables, expensive decor, and a bar that settles against the back wall where a few people sit and chat with alcohol in hand.

_ God, you miss alcohol. _

"Pretty nice, aint it?"

"It sure the hell is. How'd you get the money to afford this place, anyway?" As far as you know, he worked odd jobs around the city. Helping locals, assisting rich folk with brute work, fetching and delivering items for general stores. Nothing to laugh at in terms of money, but surely he would have told you about the wealth of cash he made.

"I've been saving up, sweetpea." He pulls out a seat for you then reclines in a chair across the table. "Wanted today to be all kinds of special."

Your cheeks fill with warmth at his spew of affection. "What's today? Am I missing something?"

"Nah. You'll see later."

You frown at his vague answer and cross both arms under heavy breasts, jutting out your bottom lip for extra emphasis of your displeasure. "Fine."

When your belly is full and your cravings are sated, he drags you out to a lovely park, a blanket already set up beneath the large oak tree overlooking the pond. Frankly, you're surprised someone hadn't stolen it yet.

“You need help getting down? Ya know, cause of the,” he waves vaguely in the direction of your too-big bump then extends an arm before you respond.

Always the gentleman.

“So,” you settle up against the warmth, the safety of his side, “what’s the special occasion?”

He takes off his hat and glares playfully at you, lips break into a toothy grin. “I guess I should just get to it then, huh? You already got me figured out.”

As the sun’s rays dance over the hill, as pinks and oranges peek out over mountaintops, Arthur reaches into his pocket and pulls out the most beautiful ring you’ve ever seen in your life. And you’ve seen in before, sitting next to bits and baubles back at camp sometimes.

“Shit, I don’t have a speech ready. And this might not fit but it’s alright, I know a guy who can size it—”

“Arthur,” you press a hand to the side of his face, your own heart racing at the beauty of the moment, “breathe. It’s just me.”

He obeys your soft command with a grimace, then opens baby blues, trains them on your face, and begins. “I know things still ain’t settled, and we both still got a lot of healing to do between us, but I do love you. More than anything in this entire world. And I want our baby to have a Pa who loves them even more than he loves his wife. So,” deep breath, “will you marry me?”

**Author's Note:**

> thank you for reading!!! feel free to leave comments/kudos and follow my [tumblr](http://ghostlybai.tumblr.com) !!!!


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